My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me
by o0kaymawn0o
Summary: Sam hasn't seen Dean since he was twelve. Dean just up and left years ago, with not enough of an explanation, other than he couldn't fulfill his ambitions here. Eight years later and Sam has to go and live with him. He's not too happy about it, but his Dad deserved a break, so he's gonna take it all with a pinch of salt and just avoid his brother for as long as he can.
1. All For John

_My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me_

* * *

**Chapter One: All For John. **

* * *

John Winchester was full of regret. He didn't want to see his son go, but this opportunity was too good to pass up, and it wasn't like he would be leaving Sam on his own. He'd be staying with his brother, Dean, who he hadn't seen since he was twelve, for reasons John didn't quite understand. Dean had announced that he had ambition for something in his life, and he had to leave here if he was ever going to achieve his goals.

John was proud of Dean for all of his success over the past few years, but he was still pissed off that his oldest left them without so much as a backward glance.

In fact, yesterday was the first time he had spoken to his son since the day he left. John wanted to call him all the time, to ask how he was doing—to see if he missed him and Sam. His pride had gotten in the way.

He had to call him. Sam didn't have any family elsewhere. Dean had been very reluctant on the phone. So reluctant that John was willing to turn down the offer of a lifetime presented to him. Finally, however, Dean relented, giving John his location, and what time would be best to drop Sam off.

First of all, he had to tell Sam that he would be staying with his brother from now on. Sam had stopped asking about Dean by the time he was fourteen, so John didn't see the conversation playing out too well for him.

He had to do this for himself, though.

Sam was old enough to make his own decisions, so he could find his own place to live if he didn't want to live with Dean. It made no difference to John. He'd prefer that Sam stayed with someone in the family, so John knew that someone was looking out for him. If push comes to shove, he won't be able to avoid it.

John was waiting in the living room for Sam to return from a friend's house. He wasn't sure how long Sam planned on being there, but it was coming up to the time that Sam usually got home, so John had a pretty good idea.

He had a bottle of whisky with him and a glass as he waited. Just to calm his nerves. Sam was really good at guilt-tripping. John was more than certain that he got it from his mother, Mary—and the Campbell's. The stubborn gene was what they would have been best known for, had there been labelled genes for every different family group.

When Sam was eighteen, he asked to go on a holiday with his friends. John had immediately said no. He wanted Sam to be with him, so he would always know he was safe. Sam somehow managed to convince him to say yes. He couldn't quite remember how. His youngest son was slippery that way.

John's head lifted when he heard a key going into the lock. He waited in anticipation for Sam to come through the door, refilling his glass of whiskey, while listening out for any unwanted company dragging their asses along with Sam.

The lock turned and Sam pushed the door open, waltzing in with a couple of bags gripped between his fingers. John briefly wondered what was in the bag. His wonders ceased when Sam made for the kitchen, not bothering to check the living room first like he usually did.

John heaved a sigh, pulling himself from the couch. He called his sons name, as he followed him down the hallway. Sam craned his neck in acknowledgement.

"I need to talk to you," John said, allowing Sam to lead him into the kitchen.

"About what?" Sam replied, taking a few items from the bag. John assumed he would be making something to eat, since most of the contents was food.

The older man took a seat at the table, advising Sam to do the same. Baffled by the unusual actions of his father, Sam accepted the invitation, his eyebrows coming to life when John placed his hand over his.

"Um," Sam mumbled.

To his son's disbelief, John soothed his thumb over Sam's hand. "Sammy, I've been given an opportunity of a lifetime, and it requires me to move away from here. I've made arrangements with your brother for you to move in with him," he announced, hushing his son when he started yelling at the mention of Dean. "It's okay. You don't have to live with him if you don't want to—you can get your own place, but I am taking this offer, Sammy. Regardless of how you feel."

"And I want you to," Sam admitted.

John brings Sam's hand closer. "I'd prefer it if you live with your brother, Sam. At least that way I know you have someone looking out for you."

Sam laughs sarcastically. "Looking out for me? Really, Dad? Dean hasn't been there for us since I was in the sixth grade. He just up and left us. So, sorry if I find that hard to believe." They both see hurt in each other's eyes. They feel the same way about Dean leaving them. Family is family, and Dean was the only family Sam would have left when his Dad leaves.

"Like I said before, you can get a place of your own. I'd just prefer it if you were with Dean."

"I know, Dad," Sam mutters, taking his hand back.

John missed the closeness, but lets it go. He was never touchy to begin with. Only Sam brought out this side of him.

"Dean has great connections as well. He can get you in a really good university, if that's what you still want to do? And he has friends in high places, if you just wanted to work?"

Honestly, Sam appreciated how much his father was trying to sell Dean to him. How much he wanted Sam to be at least happy with this decision. Sam wasn't pleased. That was it. He didn't want to live with Dean. He didn't even want to see Dean. He left him astray. Sam didn't remember doing anything wrong at the time. As far as he knew, they had a pretty good brotherly bond, which he cherished—even if Dean didn't.

Sam would live with him. Not because he wanted to. Not because Dean was there. His father deserved this break, and Sam was going to make it easy for him. If he wanted Sam to live with his big brother to give him peace of mind, he would.

All for his father.

Not for himself.

And especially not for Dean.


	2. I Think About You

_My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me_

* * *

The gentle purr of the car's engine did nothing to calm Sam down. Every step of the journey, he'd been on edge. John knew that his son didn't want to be here, even more that he definitely didn't want to get out of the car. He also knew that Sam was going to because he made a promise, and Winchester's do not break their promises.

Sam's hand stayed on the handle, unmoving. It didn't wish to pull down as much as Sam. Deep down, he resigned himself to his fate of having to live with his brother. That pit was never paid much attention. On the surface, he just couldn't stand the idea of seeing his face. Dean must have changed quite a lot by now. It's been years, and Sam hadn't seen any photos of him.

He didn't want to look at his face, remember?

Swallowing his Winchester pride, Sam pulled down the handle and got out of the car. He closed the door behind him, immediately leaning in through window.

John Winchester locked eyes with his son, conveying a message that both of them understood. His eyes said that it wasn't goodbye, and he would see him again. Sam tore his eyes away and waved his father off, knowing that if he had kept up that stare, he would have pleaded for John to just take him with him to wherever he had to go.

Turning on his heel, Sam gave the outskirts of the house a onceover. It was a nice house. Sam had to admit that—Dean did well for himself. He didn't pay much attention to the exterior, as he travelled up the path, just now remembering that John took his suitcase to the door for him, as he wanted to see Dean quickly before leaving.

Sam was fine with that. It meant that he didn't have to lay eyes on him first. During the exchange, Sam couldn't see his brother from the car, but John mentioned that he looked a lot different, and that Dean was very grown up.

Sam didn't care. He wasn't planning on spending any time getting to know him. He'd find his room and stay there until dinner, do whatever he had to do throughout the day and all that jazz. Then he'd repeat the same thing for the rest of his time here. He really hoped that it wasn't long.

Deciding that standing outside the house wasn't getting him anywhere, Sam knocked on the door. He expected an older looking version of his brother to answer the door. What he didn't expect was a boy no older than four staring up at him in wonder.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely. Sam wasn't sure how to react. He was too busy freaking out about the possibility that his brother might have a child. He never would have pegged his brother to be the fatherly type. Sam remembered his brother being the type of guy that would sleep with a woman and never call her again. There had to be some special lady to get Dean to settle down. For some reason that irked Sam. He couldn't bring himself to care about that at the moment.

Putting on a fake smile, Sam crouched down, so he didn't look like a tower to the small child. "Hey, I'm Sam. Is Dean in?" The kid nodded his head, opened the door and let Sam into the house.

Sam tried to ignore the flash of recognition in the child's eyes and followed him inside. The boy led him to the kitchen, where a woman with long black hair was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a well-cooked dinner, from the look of things.

She smiled at the child as he entered, gesturing him over for a hug. Once that was done, she moved her attention to the tall man standing in the doorway, like he was waiting for someone to pinch him and wake him up from a nightmare.

"You must be Sam, right?" she assessed, looking him over casually. He didn't feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny, but he did wonder how she knew his name. As if sensing his thoughts, she filled him in. "I'm Lisa, and this is my son, Ben."

Ben waved to him at Lisa's encouragement.

Sam returned it uneasily.

"What magic did you use to get my brother to settle down?" he joked, but he was sort of serious at the same time.

She grinned in humor. "To be honest, I don't know. I met him a long time ago, and when I found out I was pregnant with Ben, he became a whole different person. He's a great father, and we've been together ever since."

He felt sick. Unbeknownst to why, he didn't want to hear this. Right now, he just wanted to find his room and sleep. So, he asked for directions. When she questioned if he wanted to see his brother first, his reply was instant. She respected his decision and told him that his room was second on the right, and that everything had been set out for him.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Sam left the kitchen, on-route to find his room. He heard her say that his stuff had been taken to his room earlier, if he was wondering where it was. He thanked her for that, too, then went on his way—not offering a look back.

Paying no mind to the interior of the house either, Sam found the stairs and started up them. He got to the top, located where his room was and headed for it. Just as he was passing the first door on his right, the one on the left opened.

He turned his head for a second, the sound instantly attracting his attention. When he saw that it was Dean, he paused. So did the older man. They stood there for a few seconds just observing each other. They could both see that they were nothing like they used to be.

Dean had to look up to see the rest of his 'little' brother. He couldn't believe that the man in front of him was Sam, and vice-versa. Sam used to be so small. Now he had at least five inches on Dean.

The man wasn't sure if he was happy about that fact, but he had no time to think about it because Sam was already walking away, without even saying so much as a word to him.

He felt the need to stomp his foot like a brat, but he stopped himself.

"Sam," he called gruffly.

Sam's shoulders tensed and his whole body stood rigid. Taking his time, Dean moved in front, attempting to make eye contact with his so clearly pissed off younger brother.

"What, you're not even gonna say hi to your brother?"

He said nothing. Just stared at those luminous green eyes that he remembered so vividly after all this time. Dean was a different person. He was a man. He had a job. He had a family. He might even be married for all Sam knew. He chanced a glance at Dean's wedding finger, and found himself almost sighing in relief when he saw that it was just skin that met him. No expensive ring that would put a normal person in a one-bedroom apartment building, as money meant everything these days when it came to marriage. If the ring wasn't expensive, it wasn't good enough.

"Sam, I'm happy for you to stay here and be a brat, but you know that I don't like to be ignored."

Again, Sam didn't react. Stared consistently, but did not react.

Dean started to feel awkward. He loosened the tie he was wearing, having not got in from work too long ago. It was suddenly hotter than it was five minutes ago, as well. He was nervous, to say the least. He had been since John called him and asked this big ass favor. Dean wasn't stupid. He figured that Sam wouldn't want anything to do with him, due to him leaving the kid at such a young age—an age that he would never understand the true reason he left in the first place.

That didn't matter anymore, though.

"Have you met Lisa and Ben?"

Sam could only nod his head. His jaw went tight at the mention of Lisa, and he could feel the rest of his body tensing up. He wanted to get out of here. He wanted to go anywhere where Dean wasn't.

The urge to give Sam a hug was strong. So strong that it took Dean folding his arms to prevent himself from doing so. At this point, he could only see Sam tensing up and pushing him away, so there was no reason to even entertain the notion.

Giving up for the time being, Dean told Sam that his dinner was in the oven—bottom draw whenever he wanted it. He revealed where everything was, the bathroom and anything else Sam might use while he was here.

Before he let Sam go to his room, he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It's good to see you, Sam."

His hand slipped from Sam's tightened shoulders, falling limp. He watched Sam close the door to his new room, a sad expression coming over his face. A very small part of him had been hopeful that Sam would have been happy to see him, but he guessed he was wrong.

Letting it go, Dean moved down the stairs to the kitchen, where Lisa and Ben were eating their dinner. Lisa was almost finished with hers, and Ben was making faces with the food he had left.

"Don't play with your food, Ben," Dean admonished lightheartedly, placing a kiss on Lisa's cheek and running his hand across Ben's head.

He took his own seat at the table, thinking about what a first impression Sam must have made on his son and girlfriend.

Apparently, he didn't have to ask to get the intel.

"You were right about Sam. He didn't even want to see you before he went to his room. I understand, but you're still brothers," she said, and removed Ben's hands from his food, placing his knife and fork in them instead.

"He's tall!" Ben exclaimed, smiling up at Dean as he demonstrated just how tall Sam was, making him out to be as big as a giraffe.

Dean and Lisa both laughed at his observation, before the blonde's face went solemn. On cue, Lisa requested Ben go play in the living room. It was his bedtime soon, but she needed to talk with Dean about that look.

Ben complied, proudly announcing that he was going to watch Power Rangers on the TV. Dean offered a grin and a high-five as the boy left the room.

Lisa turned to Dean. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

He wanted to say no, but he knew he could talk to Lisa about everything. "He didn't even speak to me-"

"You saw each other?" she interrupted, apologizing afterwards.

Dean sighed. "That's okay. Yeah, we just kind of looked at each other. And Ben's right, he has gotten really tall. He's taller than me now. It felt so good to see him again, but all he could do was nod at whatever I had to say."

Her face revealed she was there to listen, so he carried on. "I expected this to happen. I thought I was prepared for it. But experiencing the rejection is a lot more intense than just playing the scenario out in your head, y'know?"

She understood completely.

"How am I gonna get him to trust me again? I don't even think it's possible. He looked at me like I was invisible. But I could see the fucking hurt in his eyes, and-"

Shamefully, he leaned on his fist. "Sorry, I didn't mean to curse. I just don't know what to do."

"What do you want to do?" she offered.

A few thoughts flittered around in his mind, but he had no idea which of them would actually work or do anything good.

He suddenly smirked. "I can charm a girl into bed easily, but I can't even charm my brother into having a conversation with me."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "You could do that four years ago, hotshot."

He leaned in and teased her neck. "Well, then let's see if I can take back my winning streak."

Sam heard laughing outside his room and groaned. They had just put Ben to bed, and now they were giggling like high school kids on prom night. He hadn't been able to sleep the second his head hit the pillow, which had been thoroughly disappointing.

Now he had to deal with this.

_Fantastic._

"Shush," Lisa hushed, followed by the sound of a door opening.

"You shush," Dean replied, most likely kissing her. Sam could hear the melding of lips, and the odd slapping noise.

He shuddered. He was not going to listen to his brother have sex. _Not with her_. Not while he was two rooms away. Not while he had noise-cancelling headphones.

Sam reached for the little miracle, placing it over his head. He tried to smile that he could no longer hear them. All he felt was empty. And sick.

_Hurt, mostly. _

Why did he feel this way? What was he not getting? Why the fuck did he have to be here? Why couldn't John have just taken him with him? Life would have been so much easier!

Sam fell back on his pillow and bit back a groan of frustration. He rolled over onto his side and thought about his friends from back at his real home. He thought about the times they would hang out and do anything that popped into their minds. He thought about the moments leading up to Dean walking out on them, up until the door closed and he watched him get into his car from the window. _He thought about how much he cried that night. _

He thought about that before he went to sleep every night.

He wondered why it made him cry tonight.


	3. Bacon Is The Best Thing Ever

_My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me_

* * *

Sam started awake when his headphones were ripped from him. He jumped up and glared at his brother, who was the culprit behind his rude awakening. He prepared himself to cuss the man out, but stopped when he figured that might give Dean some sense of victory—if Sam actually said a word to him.

"Mornin', sunshine, meet any rainbows today?" Dean muttered dryly, dropping Sam's headphones on the bed. He had planned to come in and invite the guy down for breakfast nicely. After yelling at him to wake up for the past five minutes, he eventually got tired of waiting.

One could have only have so much patience.

Sam felt the need to clarify that Dean was the reason he was wearing the things in the first place, but thought better of it.

Instead, he coldly glanced at him as he walked out of the room, not checking to see if the older man followed after him. He was hungry. He needed food. He hoped that dinner Dean mentioned last night was still in the oven.

"I threw that out. You can't eat it now. Have some breakfast instead, Sam," Dean advised, reading Sam's mind and passed Sam on the stairs, speeding up on the way down.

Sam flipped him the bird when he was no longer in sight. He couldn't believe how clueless Dean was being. How could he act so calmly when he knew damn well Sam wanted answers, or an offer for him to punch Dean multiple times?—either would have done, if you asked him.

This was ridiculous. Childish, even—the whole ignoring Dean's every word and not offering a single one in return. It was all he could think of to do. He didn't want to say anything to Dean, so ignoring him was the only option.

When he eventually arrived at the kitchen, Lisa was setting up the table. She noticed him enter and asked him how he was this morning.

"Lousy," he answered honestly, throwing himself into a chair.

"How come?" she wondered, with an etch of concern in her voice.

Sam didn't need her sympathy. She was part of the reason he was pissed off in the first place. After mentally arguing with himself about the reason why, he half-agreed that it was because sex is a two-way street, so she was as much to blame for Sam's annoyance as his inconsiderate brother.

"Reasons I'd rather not say with a child in the room," he mumbled, eyeing the kid.

Lisa blushed, getting the message through that alone. She hadn't thought that they had been loud. They were laughing in the hallway for quite some time, but Sam shouldn't have been able to hear them from his room…

She would ask, but Ben was sat at the table eating his cereal, so she'd save it for later. Ben most likely wouldn't understand the exchange to begin with, but she was trying to make a good impression. She knew she was a good mother, and for some reason she wanted Sam to know she was, regardless of his problems with his brother.

Dean was listening to Lisa and Sam as he fried some eggs. He felt kind of jealous that Sam spoke to Lisa, but not to him. His voice was a lot deeper. He had matured so much over the past eight years. Dean hadn't had the luxury of hearing Sam's voice yesterday, as the mute didn't say a word to him—not even a sound.

He recalled John warning him that it was going to take a lot of time for him to rebuild anything with Sam. It upset him, sure. He never wanted to hurt Sam. But he had to get away. For himself, and for his brother.

Just because he left, it didn't mean that he didn't still care about Sam. He thought about him all the time. Sam was a big part of his thought process. Sometimes, he'd sit there for hours talking about the adventures they went on when they were little and still full of innocence. Lisa would listen to him with intrigue, prompting him to continue whenever he paused for a long time.

It was painful to think about Sam.

Thinking about Sam meant thinking about _that, _and he never wanted to think of that.

Lisa was the reason _that _wasn't the focus of his life. Lisa and Ben kept him in a good place, and he liked that place. It comforted him. Made him feel like he wasn't alone in this world and there was some chance for him.

"There are some good universities here. If you want, I can take you around and show you some?" Lisa offered genuinely, smiling warmly at the younger Winchester.

"What are you, his mother?" Dean joked, placing a plate of fried eggs and bacon on the table—one for Sam and one for Lisa. Ben wasn't ready for the experience that is bacon yet, so he only got to eat his cereal, while the adults indulged on one of the finest things to grace mankind.

Sam would have said thank you, had anyone else made him breakfast.

"Thanks for the offer, Lisa, but I'd prefer to look around them myself, if that's okay," he replied eventually, eyeing her.

She picked her fork up from the side of the plate, digging it into the egg. Dean finished frying up his own food and set his down next to Lisa, immediately stuffing a strip of bacon into his mouth.

When Dean started talking with his mouth full of food, a sense of nostalgia washed over the brunet. Some things never changed, he guessed. Dean was still a messy eater. He assumed that Lisa must have gotten tired of telling him to swallow before he spoke because she didn't bat an eyelid.

Sam remembered how Dean used to open his mouth and show what was in there, then grin. Sam used to look away in disgust at the scene, calling his brother an animal or something. Now he kind of wished Dean would, so he could see more of his brother for what he was back then, and not this family man that he'd become.

"No work today, Dean?" Lisa questioned, enjoying her food.

"Not today I don't. Gonna spend this day rekindling my relationship with my mute brother over there," he stated, stabbing a knife in Sam's direction, who glared at the action. Dean told him to relax and moved the knife away.

Lisa lightly scolded him for it, but ultimately she was happy that Dean was going to commit an entire day to getting his brother to be happy with this.

Sam _really _wanted to spit a snarky retort. If he did, Dean would be getting what he wanted. And the man did not deserve what he wanted. Not in his eyes. So he just kept his mouth shut, finished his dinner, and immediately made a break for it afterwards.

Clearly, Dean meant it when he confidently declared he'd repair their relationship, as he asked Lisa to finish up and get Ben to school, while he dealt with Mr. Grumpy Pants.

Ben laughed at the way he described Sam, which put a smile on the older Winchester's face.

Dutifully, Lisa complied, and watched Dean chase after the brooding brunet. She couldn't help feeling that the age difference between the two men was starting to show. She also couldn't help thinking that Sam was acting like Dean had broken up with him.


	4. Stop Being A Bitch

_My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me_

* * *

Sam ignored every call of his name. He didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to see his face. There was nothing he wanted to talk about right now. When was Dean going to get that through his thick skull? Sam was here temporarily. He had no intentions of over staying his welcome here.

He made it as far as the stairs before Dean forcefully turned him and dug his fingers into the brunette's shoulders.

Enough was enough. Sam was going to listen to him whether he liked to or not. Whether he wanted to say anything, he had no choice. Dean was going to beat it out of the guy if he had to. This was ridiculous.

They were brothers, not enemies.

Sam glared harshly at his brother, not appreciating Dean's fingertips forming bruises on his shoulders. He tried to pry away, but Dean held him in place. When Sam attempted to kick his shin, Dean dodged and slammed him up against the wall.

The younger man released a groan of pain, instantly reaching for the blonde's wrists to pull Dean's hands off him.

"Sam, would you stop struggling and being a bitch for two minutes so we can talk, please?"

He felt odd that Dean was asking him nicely, considering the position they were currently in.

Sam only glared harder in response, his breaths coming out faster. He stopped trying to get out of the grip, though—much to Dean's happiness.

When he was sure that Sam wasn't going to make a run for it, he loosened his grip, let go and directed Sam to the sofa. The larger man took a seat, his eyes mistrustful. Dean fell on to the sofa, releasing a pent-up sigh.

"I know you have questions, Sam—things you want to ask me about that night."

Sam's eyes widened, in intrigue and apprehension. For the first time in a long time, he finally felt like he was going to get what he wanted—a reason for Dean leaving all those years ago.

This was his chance, and he would not let Dean stop there.

Dean dragged a hand down his face. "As cliché as it sounds right now, it wasn't your fault. I want you to know that. I left for me. Not because of you or Dad. I had to get out of there, Sam. You have to understand that!" He felt on edge just thinking about that day.

What the hell did Dean mean by that? They were all fine a few days before he left them! Everything was great. They'd go to the theater. They'd watch funny videos online together. They'd even do their homework—Sam helping Dean on a few things that he got stuck on. It should have been the other way around, but Sam had more of a knack for the academic side, while Dean was better at sports and such other things.

It didn't make any sense.

Everything had been perfect. _Dean _was perfect.

_They _were perfect.


	5. You Made Me Feel Safe

_My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me_

* * *

Sixteen year old Dean had been sat on the couch, reading through a car magazine, appreciating the wonderful designs displayed on the page. He dropped it when he heard Sam come through the front door, slamming it behind him. Dean could tell straight away that something was up, and he waited for Sam to storm into the living room, a brooding look on his youthful face.

He didn't have to wait long for the inevitable.

Sam appeared at the doorway, an expression of upset on his features. He threw his book-bag to the side of him, staring with need at his older brother.

Dean knew what his brother wanted. He gestured him over with a roll of his eyes, and Sam ambled over instantly, settling on top of Dean's lap, burying his head in the young adults' chest—breathing in the protective scent that was his older brother.

He felt safe with Dean, every second he was in his company. Dean was like a shield, and a cure for all of his problems. All he needed to feel better were those big, strong arms wrapped tightly around his body, keeping away all the threats in his life.

He didn't need anyone else. Not when Dean was around. The blonde was his everything, and he wouldn't give him up for the world—not even for world peace.

A world without Dean wouldn't be peaceful at all.

Dean coddled him, laying affectionate kisses on the top of his head. Sam enjoyed those kisses. They made him feel special. He knew that Dean didn't do anything of this caliber with any of his girlfriends. He reserved this side of himself only for Sam.

The older Winchester soothed his hand along Sam's back, holding him closer. Sam tried not to wriggle from the action, as Dean mentioned that he'd prefer Sam just sit still whenever he was on his lap. He finished with a _that would be great,_ and the brunette was careful not to ever do the same thing again.

Something about Dean's hands stroking his back made him not want to sit still. However, he also didn't want Dean to stop the action, so he controlled himself whenever they were in this position to the best of his abilities.

That was something the _developing _Dean was grateful for. He never told Sam why he shouldn't wriggle, but he was confident Sam would steer clear for the future.

Sam nestled his head further on Dean's chest, bringing his arms around Dean's sides and hugged him tighter.

Dean smiled despite himself, hiking Sam up a little further, as he had been starting to slip. The boy became a deadweight whenever he cuddled Dean. The teenager didn't mind. Sam wasn't that heavy, so it never was a problem.

After several minutes of sitting on the sofa, wrapped in each other's arms, Dean asked Sam what had him so upset.

Stunning hazel eyes stared up at him, a shimmer of pain at the memory temporarily dragging the innocence away from their depths.

Dean pushed himself to remain calm.

"It was just these guys at school. They-"

"What guys?" Dean cut him off.

Sam felt his brother tense under him, and sensed the anger radiating off him. "It's okay, Dean, they just pushed me around a little. It's not a big deal anymore!" He wanted Dean to see that he didn't have to get violent. His brother didn't have to hurt anyone because of him.

Somewhere he knew that would be a losing battle. The malevolence that circled those intense green orbs had spoken of nothing but pure vengeance and pain.

"Who did it?" he demanded, done playing nice.

Sam pleaded with him to just let this go. Dean wasn't exactly a stick insect—he packed a punch, and those guys would end up in the hospital if he didn't stop Dean from attacking them.

"Let it go, Dean. I'm fine!"

Dean gently moved Sam off him, heading for his jacket and his car keys. He'd show those dicks what happened when you mess with Dean Winchester's baby brother.

"If you won't tell me, I'll find them myself, Sammy. Your choice."

This wasn't what he wanted! None of it. He just wanted to lie there in Dean's arms and maybe nap for a little while. He didn't want Dean to get himself in trouble because he was too weak to look after himself.

After waiting several seconds for an answer, Dean shrugged his shoulders, snatched his jacket off the rack and said he'd be back soon.

"No, stop!" Sam screamed.

Dean whirled on his little brother, his eyes hot and heavy. "They're not gonna get away with this shit, Sammy. Not while I'm around. I'm gonna give them what they deserve and make sure they never lay a hand on you again," he snapped and fished around for his keys. When he'd found them, he headed for the door.

"Dean, please? Don't do this! They aren't worth it!" Sam begged, following after his brother. Dean didn't stop. He had only one thing in mind, and that was beating the shit out of those assholes that thought they could lay a hand on Sammy and not have their faces kicked in.

Not going to happen.

Feeling like he was fighting a losing battle, Sam did the only thing that he could think of. He draped his arms around Dean, closing his hands at his navel, locking himself against the older Winchester.

Dean stilled himself. If he'd wanted to, he could've dragged Sam along with him. But he didn't. He stopped in his tracks, peering down at Sam's forehead pressed against the small of his back.

Sam had fallen to his knees when he dived to grab his brother. He'd felt this way he'd have more of a shot at making Dean reconsider.

"Sammy, let go," he commanded weakly.

The boy shook his head, still against the teenager.

Dean sighed and called Sam a real pain. The brunette didn't react, just tightened his grip.

"Okay, fine. You win. But if those dicks ever come near you again, I swear to God I will kill them—you understand?"

Sam nodded in very much the same way, never relenting on his hold for a second. Rolling his eyes, Dean pried Sam's hands apart and turned around. He gathered his hands under Sam's arms and hauled him up, placing one hand under his bottom, and the other against his neck, as if Sam were a baby.

Sam instinctively locked his legs around Dean's waist and rested his head on the crook of Dean's shoulder.

He was still angry that Sam didn't want him to put those kids in the hospital, but he hated to see Sam upset even more. Yawning, Dean walked them over to the couch and resumed their earlier position.

They fell asleep a few minutes later—Sam to the rise and fall of Dean's chest, and Dean to the scent that is his little brother, so very calming to him.

Neither of them had woken to the sound of the door opening and closing. And neither of them saw the expression of pure happiness and pride on John Winchester's face when he witnessed the sight before him after a hard day at work.


	6. I Saw Red When They Touched You

_My Fist Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me_

* * *

Sam cherished that memory. After Dean left them, he couldn't get close to anyone. He shied away from hugs—any form of affection had made him feel uneasy. Some people had tried to get him to open up to them. They'd place their hand on his shoulder, as if they were offering support, but he would brush them off.

Ask for them to just leave it.

Dean had been the last person the brunette held. He hadn't wanted to cuddle with anyone else. Dean had been his rock, and without him, Sam had fallen. He was no longer happy and full of life. He hadn't had a lot of friends until he hit high school and hung out with some guys that had experienced loss.

It had been odd, but they sort of found each other, in a way.

Sam had been drawn to them when he spotted them all on the field. It had been them that approached him, started to talk to him—asking questions they honestly had no business knowing the answers to.

Each one had a story, though, of losing someone. Dean hadn't died. But a part of Sam did when his older brother left him.

Eventually, Sam admitted that he hadn't exactly lost someone, however his brother had abandoned him. They were sympathetic, completely understanding of his upset, once he explained their relationship some more—how close they were as brothers.

There had been one guy in particular that Sam felt the most comfortable around. He didn't know how it happened. There was no way he could have seen it coming a mile off. Nevertheless, it did.

His name was Kayden.

Kayden had stood out the most to Sam, out of their small group. He tried the least to get to know him, and that somehow made Sam pay more attention to him than any of the others. Kayden preferred to sit there and listen than talk about his life.

During a summer break, when Sam was seventeen, his group of friends attended a keg party at some jocks house. It was very cliché, and like everything you would see in a teen romance. There was some guy that was drunker than everyone else, along with some girl that couldn't handle her alcohol, dancing on the table like it was the last time she would ever dance again. The unpopular guys had managed to sneak in through the back, getting shot down by every girl they went up to.

Sam's group hadn't been unpopular. They were attractive and they didn't give a shit, so by high school standards, they were high enough on the food chain to get invites to things.

Usually, they would turn the events down because they honestly didn't want to be around all the douchebag jocks that deserved a punch.

That night, Sam discovered that he was a bit of a lightweight. After a few beers, he was pleasantly buzzed and happy enough to act like an idiot in front of a few people. Everyone spurred him on when he dive-bombed into the pool, surfacing with his hair drenched, and sticking to his face.

Kayden had helped him out of the swimming pool, told him that he had definitely had enough to drink and offered to take him home. Sam listened to him, accepting the terms. They walked out together, letting the others know that they would all meet up tomorrow.

When they were in Kayden's car, Sam couldn't stop himself from staring at the guy. He had naturally tanned skin, short, managed hair and light green eyes. They reminded him of someone, but he couldn't place a face or a name.

As Kayden had started the car up, Sam said it. He had told him that he had nice eyes. Kayden had cleared his throat, turned his head and observed Sam's features. He had then admitted that he thought Sam's eyes were nice, too.

Sam blamed his next move on the alcohol. Without even thinking, he had placed his hand on Kayden's thigh, moving slowly towards his crotch. Kayden's breath had caught in his throat when Sam cupped him through his jeans, focused solely on his face—a flicker of desire escalating to a burn.

When Kayden realized that Sam wasn't going to stop what he was doing, and as the brunette was about to reach for his zipper, Kayden grabbed his head and crushed their lips together, penetrating Sam's mouth instantly, enjoying the taste of beer on the Winchester's tongue.

The result of that night was Sam losing his virginity to Kayden. It had been an amazing night. He remembered every part of it. From Kayden kissing him as he carried him up the stairs to the slightly older teenager's bedroom—to the end, where Kayden moaned his name, spilling his load into the condom.

Kayden had tried to spoon him after the event, but Sam asked him if he couldn't do that. Kayden was understanding. He even apologized for reminding the brunette of Dean.

He missed that guy.

Sam snapped back to reality when Dean clicked his fingers from the other couch, not letting up on the action until he had the younger man's full attention.

"Welcome back, Princess. Now, would ya' say somethin' to me already? I'm getting' tired of the silent treatment."

His lips twitched. He didn't want to talk to Dean—not at all.

But, he guessed it was time he asked a few questions of his own, and he wasn't going to achieve that being a mute the entire time he was here.

"What I don't understand is why you never called, never visited—what was so important that you couldn't even pick up the phone and talk for a few minutes?" Dean blanched. He wasn't sure how to react now that Sam was actually responding to him. He tried to push back how great it felt to have Sam talking to him again.

Sam was right. He could have called. He could have visited. But he chose not to for selfish reasons. He hadn't been ready to make contact for a long time. In fact, it wasn't until Ben was born that he was distracted enough not to think about his little brother.

Every day he wanted to talk to him—just hear his voice. And every time he stopped himself. He knew that if he heard the slightest bit of anguish in that innocent voice, he would have caved and come rushing back.

He had to let Sam go. It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, but it had been his only choice in that situation.

When John called, Dean was scared. He had done his very best to think of any other options. He wanted to see Sam. God, he had wanted to see him so badly it hurt. After the phone call, he had to take a breather. He had been going over some things for work, but he'd dropped it all and sat there in utter silence for the next few hours, until Lisa came up to see how he was doing.

Dean knew that it was time Sam heard his side of the story.

"I promised you that I wouldn't hurt those kids, but I lied. When we went to school that day, I skipped all of my classes so I could make sure you were okay. It was around lunch time that I saw those guys messing with you. They pushed you to the floor, stole your lunch money and walked off. I saw you get up, brush yourself off and head for the building.

"Once you were out of sight, I went after them. Cornered them against the back of the school. I told them that they would have no warnings, and that I've already seen them bullying you, so they would have no second chances." Dean shifted on the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions.

"I broke both their noses, Sam, and fractured several of their ribs. They were bleeding all over the place. Once I started, I couldn't stop. It was like every rational part of me was replaced with the anger that I felt the day before. All I could see was that look of pain in your eyes. It spurred me on. Punch after punch until they were out cold on the floor, blood dripping from their noses and mouths."

Sam's eyes were wide. He felt slightly betrayed that Dean went behind his back and did that. Although he did say that if they ever laid a hand on Sam again, he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

"After checking to see if they were breathing, I was torn between glad and disappointed I felt a pulse. Then I ran. I ran home, hid in my room—busted up a few things. Smashed our bedroom window. I was still so angry. And I was only that angry because they had hurt you, Sam. I couldn't think straight and I made the decision that I had to get out of there. If I stayed, who knows what I could have been capable of? And well, you know the rest."

He did know the rest. It was burned in his memory.

A solemn smile bloomed on his face. "I get it, Dean. I do. Every fiber of my being is telling me to forgive you right now. I have the answers that I've wanted since the day you left," he mumbled, not looking at the older man.

Dean crossed his arms, trying not to be too hopeful.

The brunette got up off the couch and approached the stairs, a shower in mind.

"But I cannot forgive you for leaving me, Dean. You have no idea what happened after you left. Maybe I'll tell you, maybe I won't…" He trailed off, starting up the stairs. Dean moved to the bottom, resting his hand on the edge.

"Sam, I-"

"No. Forget it. I can't talk about this right now," he snapped, stopping at the top of the stairs. "Just leave me alone, okay?" All Dean could do was nod hesitantly. He didn't want to leave it alone. He wanted to know what happened after he left!

He felt like the worst human being that ever existed.

Sam could do that to him with just a few words…


	7. It Took A Child Being Born To Stop Me--

_My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me_

* * *

Lisa left the house not too long ago. He didn't have the option of asking her for advice on this one. He didn't know what to do. Sam could hurt him so much, and with ease. All he could think about was what might have happened to him during the time he was gone.

Sam seemed upset.

He must have gone through shit!

Dean had been so confident that if he beat the shit out of those kids, the threat would stand for the rest of the douchebags. They must have caught wind of him leaving the brunette all on his own.

Pour, young, defenseless Sam! What the fuck was wrong with him, to leave his younger brother for all those years? He knew high school could be a motherfucking bitch to get through. He just hoped that Sam found some good people to hang out with while he was there.

He wasn't going to get anything done procrastinating, so he'd have to just barrel into the room without Sam's permission. This wasn't ever going to get resolved with the both of them avoiding each other.

Dean trekked up the stairs and opened the door to Sam's new room. The brunette was talking on the phone to someone, not even acknowledging the older man as he entered the room.

"What did you guys get up to today?" Sam muttered interestedly to the person on the other line.

He felt bad that he was about to break up the conversation, but he really couldn't hold this off for much longer.

"Sam, we need to talk. Can you tell whoever's on the phone to call you back, please?" Dean requested evenly, folding his arms over his chest.

He refused to have a two way conversation with his little brother. He knew it would piss him off to the point where he'd throw the guys phone out the window. Although he could easily afford another phone for Sam—_a better one, _he'd rather not waste money.

"Sorry, Kayden. I'll call you back in a bit, okay?" The brunette hung up after he received a response. He set his phone by his side on the bed and hesitantly glanced at his older brother, regarding his irritated posture.

Dean silently thanked the man for listening to him without giving him any grief this time. He asked him if he could sit on the bed. Sam's reply was that it was Dean's house, so wasn't that for him to decide.

"Good point," he returned, settling next to Sam on the bed. The younger Winchester immediately tensed up at the familiar closeness from all those years ago.

"I'm not going to ask you about what happened while I was gone. You can keep that all to yourself for as long as you want. You asked me not to do anything to those guys and I did anyway. It was hard to be around you when I felt so guilty," he mumbled, resting his hands on his knees. "I thought about you a lot, Sam. We weren't just brothers, we were best friends, as corny as that is, and something as strong as the bond we had doesn't just disappear like that—hell, it still hasn't," Dean admitted, staring across at Sam's reaction.

Hazel eyes wanted him to continue.

"Every day, until Ben was born, I thought about you—the good times, and sometimes even the bad. I was kind of grateful I had a son because it distracted me from how it felt to think about you and how upset you must have felt when I was gone."

Sam still knew when Dean was being genuine with him. He could see it all in his face, his backs, his shoulders, his arms—everything revealed to him that his brother was telling the truth. He felt himself leaning more and more towards letting everything go and just hugging the older man.

His pride didn't allow him to.

"Thank you for telling me that. It means a lot. Really, it does. But this is eight years running, Dean. You can't just expect me to drop all the pain and upset that went along with it. So, I accept everything, but I don't forgive you. I might never forgive you, and it's up to you if you want to do anything about that," Sam responded, reaching for his phone. He told Dean he could think about that for as long as he wanted, but right then he had to call Kayden back.

Dean felt somewhat peeved that he was brushed aside by whoever the hell this Kayden was, however he said nothing to insinuate he was pissed off.

He left Sam to his phone call, thoughts running through his head of what he could do to make it up to his younger brother. He knew that flattery wasn't the key to his heart, but he'd try his luck at a selection of things to sweep this all under the rug.

Later that evening, after Sam had announced he was going to bed, Dean started spit-balling some ideas to Lisa, and asking for her opinion on each one.

"You know this isn't going to come easy, Dean?" she chided, finding the last suggestion pretentious.

"I know, I know. But I need to do something. I might have to take some time off work to get this done—good thing I run the place, 'coz this could take a while."

Lisa rolled her eyes, provoking him to move on to the next idea. They sat at the kitchen table for hours going over countless schemes. She liked the sound of some of them—she could see them working on the brunette, but she didn't understand how her advice was going to be any good here, considering she barely knew the guy.

Dean encouraged her to focus, declaring that he had the opportunity to rekindle his friendship with Sam, and he wasn't going to let it slip by any means.

Outside the kitchen, Sam smirked. He had only caught the short end of Dean's last plan of action and that declaration, however he appreciated the sentiment.

He appreciated that Dean was trying.

He slept peacefully that night, with a small smile on his features.


	8. Old Habits Don't Die Young

_My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me_

* * *

"Rise and shine, Sam!" Dean ordered from outside the younger man's room. Sam rolled over on the bed, facing the ceiling. He inwardly groaned when the sun glared at his face. Why exactly did he have to get up anyway? He was a groan ass man and he could wake up whenever the hell he pleased!

"Hurry up, Sam before the day wastes away," he muttered through the door, ready to burst in if need bed.

"Fine," Sam replied, throwing himself out of bed. He fell into some jogging bottoms and opened the door.

Dean grinned as the door open. "Put a shirt on, sasquatch," he advised, waiting for the brunet to grab something. Sam mumbled under his breath as he reached around his room for a shirt.

Unaware, Dean's eyes drifted to his brother's toned buttocks. He stopped himself, but couldn't help appreciating the man's physique. He clearly hit the gym several times a week to get an ass like that.

"Ready when you are, princess," he joked, stepping out of the way as Sam passed him at the door. He led him down the steps then halted when they reached the kitchen. Dean told him that the day started with some breakfast, and that the best parts would happen later.

Sam wasn't sure what to think, but his mouth watered at the sight of the food set out on the table.

_Day one begins! _

Dean thought to himself, pleased by the expression on Sam's face. Recognition littered his previously skeptical features.

"Put-put gold, are you serious?"

The older man started toward the man who gave out the clubs, reminding him that he had called in ahead, so the clubs should have already been set aside.

Dean thanked the man as he took the clubs, gesturing for Sam to waddle on over. He did so, albeit slowly, as he couldn't quite believe they were about to play mini gold. He hadn't played it since…

"_Just aim for the middle, it'll go right through—I promise!" _

"_Dean, it's too far away! It's not gonna go in!"_

"_Sammy…"_

"_Can you just show me one more time, please?" _

"_Fine. Like this. Hold it like this, not too tight, and then drive it on through." _

"_Wow! It went in the hole first time!"_

"_It sure did, Sammy." _

So that's why they were here. The first time they played put-put gold was when John had to go away for several weeks, and Dean spent the whole time cheering Sam up because it had been the first time he'd been without his father.

They started at hole one. Dean sunk it with the first shot. So did the brunet. This went on until hole seven. By hole nine, Sam was grinning, as he couldn't help himself. He was having a really good time. And he was much better than he used to be.

The end result was Dean winning.

"Better luck next time, Sam!"

_Day two!_

"You hate museums. Why are we here?"

Dean clapped him on the shoulder and moved inside the building. "It's not for me," he admitted, enjoying the smile that followed. Sam's cheeks heated when he caught his brother staring at him. He tried to focus on the exhibits instead.

It wouldn't do him too good to give his brother the satisfaction.

_Day three!_

Sam and Dean traipsed into the cinema, side by side. They stood slightly closer to each other than they did on day one. Sam felt more comfortable. He was starting to enjoy being treated so well by the blond.

"Two tickets, please?"

The ticket salesman blushed at the sight of the two handsome men in front of her. "Um, what movie would you like to see?" As part of procedure, she pointed toward the list above her, smiling invitingly at the Winchester's.

"That all depends on what he wants to see. My treat," he grinned at the woman, turning to glance at his younger brother. He asked the man if there was anything he had in mind. Dean knew that Sam was into those soppy chick flick movies where the whole thing is predictable.

Girl meets guy. Girl doesn't think she's good enough for guy. Guy changes so girl is less insecure. They get close. They party. They have a date. He fucks up. She makes it hard for him. He says a speech about how much he's changed, and they live happily ever after.

"Oh, that's so sweet. How long have you been together, if you don't mind me asking?" the girl said, kind of disappointed they were together, yet also intrigued.

Sam caught himself laughing behind his older brother, finding the spectacle highly amusing. Dean registered what the woman suggested, his 'brows flying to his hairline.

"Does that get us discount?" he jested, elbowing Sam for giggling.

She looked between the two of them, a shy smile on her face. "Um, no—I was just curious…"

Dean shrugged. "In that case then, we're just brothers," he answered, encouraging Sam to hurry up and pick a movie.

_Just brothers? _

Why did that sting so much? Why did it suddenly feel like his blood was ice, and his stomach was as tight as an incorrectly sized ring? He didn't understand, but he brushed it off for now.

_Day seven! I think I'm starting to get somewhere._

Dean was feeling more confident in his relationship with his brother. Sam no longer went straight to his room when they were finished with the activity for the day. He took more of interest in what Dean actually did for work, which the older man told him over a midnight snack in the conservatory, which Sam had taken a liking to. He mentioned that he'd like to sit back and relax with a good book there. Dean called him a nerd, and was rewarded with a punch.

He had proceeded to flick Sam on the ear and joked about being nice to his elders.

"I understand you're the boss of that place and everything, but there has to be a limit to what you can do, right?" Sam complained, slightly worried for his life.

Dean leaned over the side of the hot air balloon, staring down at the buildings through the clouds. "Don't tell me you're scared of heights, Sammy-I mean, Sam," he responded, kicking himself for letting old habits slip through.

Hesitantly, Sam walked across the small space and came up next to his brother's side. Dean felt a warm sensation spread from his right bicep, all the way to his abdomen. He narrowed it down to adrenaline and glances at his brother through the corner of his eye.

"It's okay, Dean," he said simply, going quite immediately after. Dean joined him in the silence, an invisible weight falling off his shoulders.

Things were looking up.

_Day thirteen!_

"I've never done this before, Dean…"

"You'll be great. Now let's show these sons of bitches no one stands a chance against the Winchester's!" he bellowed, charging through the woods with brute force. Sam followed after him, adjusting himself to the weight of the paintball gun.

While he'd never done this before, he had definitely wanted to for quite some time now. He watched as Dean shot up some teenagers, taking three of them out in the span of a few seconds.

"Duck, Sammy!"

Sam crouched, his body tensing up when Dean fired a shot that went right behind him. He heard a kid cry out at the pain. Dean told the


	9. Science Fiction

_My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me_

* * *

Dean had been awake for a while now. His little brother still had his head resting against his chest, so he wasn't able to move just yet. If he did move, he wasn't sure how Sam would take it. The guy might see it as him rejecting him again—Dean didn't want to deal with that. Not at all. Not after all the progress he made.

Last night, Sam had said that he forgave him. He wasn't naïve. He knew that things couldn't go back to the way they used to be when they were younger just like that. It was going to take some time before they could come close to such a thing.

There may be some rare moments like what's happening right now. However, this was brought on by the influence of alcohol.

How would Dean know that his brother wouldn't freak out the second he woke up and found himself in the familiar position?

Dean would just have to wait.

He heard the pitter-patter of slippers coming down the stairs and looked towards the bottom. Lisa appeared there, yawning and brushing her hair out of her eyes.

She observed the imagery before her—confusion briefly clouding her eyes.

"What's, um—"

Dean told her that that was something they used to do when they were younger, as he casually stroked the back of Sam's hair. Her face revealed she needed a moment to take what was happening in—Dean felt a twinge of hurt that Lisa didn't understand that he couldn't allow any of these opportunities to slip.

He'd talk to her about it later.

Sam was his main focus presently.

All of his time and energy was going to go into making Sam comfortable living with him, and finding him something to keep him preoccupied while Dean was otherwise engaged.

After just accepting that she'd probably be seeing more of this behavior, due to all the stories Dean's told her over the years, Lisa smiled and carried on in to the kitchen, in a need of a nice, hot coffee.

That made the man feel slightly better. She had no right to judge anything he did anyway. And Sam wasn't just some person to him. He was the only soul that could make him smile… He saved him from a path that could have led him to the depths of the earth, and the guy wasn't even aware of it.

The hold he had on Sam unconsciously tightened, painful memories provoking him to find a source of clarity. His clarity was Sam. He buried his face in the man's hair, peppering caring kisses on the top, while smoothing the hand that wasn't keeping Sam's head up down his back, following the length of his spine.

Sam's eyes blinked open, his senses picking up a musky smell, mixed with remnants of alcohol and cigarette smoke. He lifted his head, wincing at the pulsing surrounding his temples. His eyes felt heavy, and his body weighed a tone.

"Do ya' want some Aspirin?" Dean whispered hotly into the air.

Hazel eyes shimmered, recognition dawning on him. They went to the bar… He said that he forgave Dean… And then he asked him to stay on the sofa like old times… Yeah, now he remembered.

He lifted himself up halfway, taking some of the pressure off Dean's chest, who without realizing hasn't yet removed his hands from Sam. They're both resting comfortably on the man's hips now, following his movements.

Sam inhales loudly, rubbing a fist over his right eye.

How was it that Sam was twenty years of age and still able to make actions like that seem cute? Dean didn't understand. He didn't mind that it brought a smile to his face, but he did mind the _other _thing…

"Up you get, Sam. Let's get rid of that hangover!"

"Yeah, okay," Sam replied, lethargically shifting himself around to remove himself from his brothers' lap. He had been really comfortable, so his efforts weren't as resolute as they could have been.

All the movement was causing problems, so Dean picked Sam up off the couch with him and set him down on the floor, quelling the warm feeling in his stomach.

"Wow! Daddy's so strong!" Ben exclaimed, having just come down the stairs to see his father so easily lift his uncle off him in seconds flat. And Ben was under the impression that because Sam was massive, Dean never should have been able to carry him.

"Daddy's stronger than Superman!"

Dean laughed at the spectacle. Sam cringed at the intensity of the little boy's voice. It was going to grind his head to dust.

"I'll show you how strong Daddy is!" Dean declared, surprising Sam by suddenly hauling him up and over his right shoulder, holding his legs in place as he walked them to the kitchen.

Sam's cheeks flushed. Either because that was embarrassing, or because all this motion wasn't making him feel so good.

His brother was stronger than he used to be, though. Sam wasn't just tall. He also had toned muscles. Evidently he was beating Dean by a view inches in the height department. So how the hell was his older brother walking him around the kitchen table to easily? There was no break in his voice, which meant that there couldn't be much strain—not to mention the brunet was pretty much deadweight right now…

He didn't understand. Not one bit.

"Could you please put me down now?" he whined. Literally. His stomach lurched with each step, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold everything down.

Dean grinned, releasing Sam from his shoulder and placing him on the ground. The room was spinning all around the man, however he showed some gratitude with a thank you.

He still wasn't sure if he wasn't going to need to run to the bathroom…

"Do it again! Do it again!"

Sam caught the withering smirk directed at him.

"No. Not again. Lift Lisa!" he snapped, running out of the room as fast as he could.

* * *

Feeling multitudes better from earlier, Sam decided it was time that he do some exploring of his own. The first thing he wanted to do was locate the nearest library. He liked to study, and that hadn't change. Not since he was little. In fact, it was one of the only things that remained true of his younger self before Dean left.

Lisa had told him about a library that wasn't too far from the house. He had set out as soon as he finished getting ready after his half an hour long shower. He wasn't sure why he spent so much time in there…

Well, that's not true.

He knew exactly why—he had some business to attend to. Business that left him feeling satisfied for the time being.

Dean had been hesitant to let him leave the house on his own, to which Sam offered him a _are you kidding me?—_type of look that he hoped conveyed his thoughts on that. Dean relented finally, when the younger man pointed out that he wasn't a child anymore, and he'd been without the blond for eight years, so what difference would that make?

He had chosen to ignore the guilt ridden expression he received. Instead, he mentioned that he'd be back in a few hours and exited on that note.

Honestly, he was really excited to go to the library. The amount of things Dean showed him over the past month or so were amazing. He just hoped that the library stood up to the rest of this city/town/wherever the hell he now lived.

To avoid thinking about the fact he was going to have to leave, Sam never looked into his next place of revenue. He didn't want the idea lingering on his mind for more than the car ride he went through with John.

He had listened to his music for most of it. Drowning out everything in his way. When John wanted to say something to him, he would simply pull back one of the phones, gaining Sam's attention in the process.

Sam arrived at the library. It was huge—much bigger than the one back home! He hoped it had lots of science fiction novels. He had acquired a taste for them. Kayden leant him one to read. He loved it, so he started taking out more books of that genre.

The double doors slid open, and Sam stepped through, gazing at the vast amount of bookshelves, labelled alphabetically and categorically. At least the place was well organized.

He didn't waste any time. Avoiding the lady at the counter waiting to assist him, the brunet found his own way around the library, keeping his eyes peeled for the science fiction section of the establishment.

That wasn't the only genre he enjoyed, but it was what he wanted to delve into in the current moment in time. Before them, he would read romance novels; horror novels; adventure novels… But he found that they were all missing an important element. And he came across that when he read his first sci-fi.

A few minutes later, Sam saw the billboard for the section he was looking for. He spotted a few people in the area already, sat down on a beanbag with a open book across their laps.

Sam allowed a small smile, then ambled over to the books, searching left and right for a title that might appeal to him, or an author that he'd read before.

"Are you looking for a certain book in particular?"

Turning his head to the side to see who was addressing him, Sam offered a friendly smile. "No, not really. Just browsing for something interesting," he replied honestly, returning back to his hunting.

"Here, try this one," the man insisted, handing the book over.

Sam stared at the cover. "Nothing Is Forever?"

"It's a book about an Astronaut who is abandoned on the moon. Not on purpose. A worm hole swallows the rest of his crew up. He survives, however—"

"Dude, if you want me to read it, don't give away the key parts!" Sam interrupted, laughing slightly at the puzzled reaction he received from the man.

"Fair enough," he uttered, reaching out his hand.

Sam took it without hesitation.

"Lucifer," he introduced.

Briefly, Sam's eyebrows rose from the name.

"Sam," he revealed, shaking his hand.

Lucifer grinned, and gestured for the young man to follow him. He did. He wasn't sure why, but he had the feeling this would lead somewhere good if he went along with him. Dean would be furious if he knew Sam made a decision like that.

He was led to a more secluded room, with a different array of books. "I could see you were eager to read from the way you were eyeing all the books on the shelf," Lucifer admitted, offering a seat.

He watched Sam closely as he sat, admiring the outline of the man's ass, and the power that resided in those toned thighs. It was starting to turn him on, however he pushed back the feelings of arousal. He wasn't sure that Sam swung that way. If they were at a gay bar, he would have been increasingly more forward.

Although his name meant the King of hell, it didn't make him evil.

No, he didn't prey on those that weren't into that sort of thing.

He'd have to wait and see.

* * *

"Why isn't he back yet?" Dean groaned for the fifth time that night. If Sam said he'd be back in a few hours, surely he should have been back by now? It'd been several, to Dean's knowledge. He'd given up trying to text the guy. The seen it function was on that Iphone, so Dean knew his brother hadn't seen any of them.

Not yet.

Who gets that distracted reading a damn book?

"He's a grown man, Dean. He'll be back soon," Lisa assured. She was uncomfortable. The tension in the room was almost unbearable, and it was because Sam hadn't let Dean know where he was.

Honestly, Dean was acting like he'd been stood up on a date. This wasn't healthy. It was completely ridiculous. She'd never met a pair of brother's who were as touchy-feely as the Winchester's.

She half expected the blond to turn around one day and tell her that he realized he was in love with Sam, and could no longer be with her anymore.

How ludicrous was that?

Dean's eyes were sharp. "Grown man that can't even check his phone for two seconds to see that his brother is worried about him?" he snapped in reply, holding his fist steady in his lap.

He wanted to punch something.

Sam's voice flittered in from the front room. On his feet immediately, Dean stalked toward him, his eyes hot and heavy with irritation. He spotted his younger brother, who was currently chatting to some guy that Dean had never seen before.

"Just take a seat for a second, I'll be right back," Sam said, pointing towards the couches.

Lucifer smiled. "Sure."

The younger Winchester stepped over to his brother, who was busy currently shooting daggers with his eyes at the mysterious man sitting on _his _couch, watching _his _brother's ass as he walked away.

What the hell was this?

Does Sammy know that this pervert was eye-raping him on the spot?

"Dean, is everything okay?"

He followed Sam into the conservatory, checking to see if Ben was anywhere in earshot. "No, everything is not okay, Sam! Why are you inviting strangers into my house without asking first?" His brother needed to start explaining quickly before he threw that dick out on his ass.

"He's not a stranger. Not anymore. I've been talking to him since two-thirty, and I've learned a lot about him."

Dean ran a hand down his face. "That doesn't make it okay to just bring him back to where you live! How do you know he isn't some serial killer… Or… Rapist?!" he raged, taking a seat to try and calm his nerves, and wipe his head clean of the disgusting images roaming his mind. Images that made his skin crawl.

"Look, Dean, I appreciate your concern. I'm sorry that I didn't ask first, but my phone died earlier. It had hardly any charge because I forgot to charge it last night when we were drunk. If it turns out he's either of those things, I'll handle it on my own—"

"The fuck you will! Anything like that happens, you shout and I'll be up there with a shotgun, you understand me?" he shot back, his eyes almost pleading. He couldn't think about something like that. It was all too much. His stomach was burning just from the thought of Sam's blood all over the floor when he could have been there to prevent it happening.

"So, it's okay for him to be here as long as I let you know if I think something bad will happen?"

There was deep hesitation all over the older man's body. But it was what Sammy wanted, so he wasn't going to deny him this. He wasn't happy about it—not in the slightest bit. For now, he would have to deal with it.

Dean took his time, but eventually he nodded dully, exiting the conservatory. He had wanted to bring up what he saw earlier. Then again, he wasn't sure if Sam wasn't looking for something like that to begin with…

Sam was a big boy now—he could take care of himself, right? Dean wasn't sure. He wasn't sure why he really didn't like the idea of anyone wanting to get into Sam's pants, either…

It's not like he—

No, that was stupid.

* * *

Lucifer growled, leaving a trail of bites along Sam's body. They were naked on the bed. Lucifer was on top of the younger man, grinding against him—stimulating their cocks. Sam arched his back at the friction, enjoying the treatment he was being given.

The dark blond lowered himself further, stopping in between Sam's legs.

It had been a while since Sam had done this. But he really wanted to. He felt weird doing it in Dean's house, however Lucifer lived much further away, and he'd already begun teasing the man at that room in the library.

Originally, it had started with light touches here and there. Then he palmed Sam through his jeans, and it lit a fire in Sam's belly. Without thinking, Sam had latched onto the man's lips.

Now they were here.

Lucifer played with Sam's heavy balls, admiring the weight in his hands. He pushed Sam's legs apart, peering at the twitching hole between the brunet's legs. His mouth watered at the sight of the inviting pink pucker.

The thought of being inside that heat made his cock twitch with desire.

Sam was a perfect specimen, and he knew he was going to have a lot of fun with this man. The things he could imagine himself doing…

Lucifer smirked, wrapping his fingers around Sam's beating length. He jerked the flesh, focused on the tip pealing out through skin each time, before retreating back in, behind its curtain.

He tilted down, breathing over the top of the heated arousal, before taking inch after inch into his cavern, relishing the feeling of his mouth being filled. Sam's hands roamed the older man's back, paying close attention to his sides and butt-cheeks.

Sam spread them, rotating the mass of flesh in his hands, as Lucifer continued to suck on his hard cock, dragging pleasurable noises from the larger man. Sam couldn't help it. Lucifer was good.

He clearly had vast experience.

Sam smoothed his hands up Lucifer's back, gently imprinting his blunt nails in unknown parts on accident, provoked by the long, calculated sucks from the man on top of him, working his dick with expert ease.

His orgasm was inevitable.

He came with a travelling grunt into Lucifer's mouth.

Lucifer accepted all of it, pulling back with a pop and swallowing every drop. He pressed his strong hands on the backs of Sam's thighs, pushing them back until Sam's knees rested against the top of the brunet's shoulders.

Vaguely aware of what was coming next, Sam prepared himself mentally. Lucifer smirked, touching Sam's puckered entrance with his talented tongue, lashing at it with quick speed, getting it nice and wet for the next stage.

Sam felt himself relaxing, which in turn caused his hole to loosen, opening up for the devious muscle squirming its way inside of him.

He arched off the bed when the tip rubbed along the spot near his perineum, just inches from his prostate. Lucifer must have experience in this as well. He must be good at all areas of anal sex.

His breath hitched when an unannounced digit slid inside of him, quickly locating a pleasurable spot to keep the man relaxed. Lucifer grinned when he saw his work was starting to effect Sam's member.

Blood was slowly rushing towards it, forced on by the finger now shifting in and out of him, teasing his prostate with each penetration.

Sam didn't have time for this. He was starting to get impatient. "There's lube in the second draw," he managed to reveal, keeping his knees up, and preventing any embarrassing noises spewing from his lips.

Lucifer momentarily left Sam feeling empty. He reach across the younger man, appreciating the position Sam was in. He snatched the lube from the draw and readjusted himself between Sam's legs.

"You ready then, Sam?" he asked, slathering the cold liquid all over his cock. When he was given the nod, he lined up his member, pushed the head in, steadied himself for a second then quickly rammed the rest of the way in.

Sam bit his lip to stop from crying out. The initial burn had started. It wouldn't take too long to quell, and then they could proceed to the good part.

"Go."

Lucifer guided himself out to the head the snapped back in.

* * *

Dean couldn't believe it. He felt sick to his stomach. All he wanted to do was kick down the door and beat the shit out of that motherfucker who was currently pounding his younger brother into the mattress…

He'd gone upstairs to get something from his room. Stopped when he heard Sam tell that asshole to go, then stood there in horror as he listened to Sam half-moan, and then later order him to move faster…

How else was Dean supposed to take that?

He felt like his whole world was crashing around him. A warm batch of bile rose in his throat. He located the nearest bathroom toiler and chucked his guts up into the center.

Sam was…

But all those years ago when…

It was still wrong, but half the chance was there and now—

Fuck.

What was he going to do now?

Dean sat there with his head resting on the toilet seat, prepared if he needed to release anymore of the contents of his stomach into the bowl.


End file.
